


Dissolution

by ThunderstormAtMidnight



Category: The Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Angst, I'm aware there's canon lore, and I've chosen to ignore it, idk - Freeform, like backstory kinda thing, lore fic(TM), very brief and vague mention of conversion therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28236618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderstormAtMidnight/pseuds/ThunderstormAtMidnight
Summary: As David took his first couple steps into the store, the middle-aged man behind the counter looked up at him. His expression was not unfriendly, but there was a look in his eyes that stopped David where he stood for a moment. There was something slightly off-putting about the man, something David couldn’t even begin to place.When your new boss coerces you into murder amiright guys lol
Kudos: 3





	Dissolution

**Author's Note:**

> I've never read or written anything for this fandom before but this concept just popped into my head at work and I felt very strongly about it

There was a quiet monotony to the days. The nightlife of the bar was, of course, a loud buzz of chatter and laughter, but it felt distant. Muffled as it was from the back of the bar, David knew even if he was sitting out in the middle of it he’d feel disconnected from the cheerful, rowdy atmosphere. For him, every day was the same; wake up early as all hell, work late into the night. Leave work, eat cold takeout in his car. Sleep fitfully in his car in the intense heat of the California summer. Rinse and repeat. He was trying to save up for an apartment or something, anything that would get him out of sleeping in his car. Even so, the long hours and shitty coworkers were starting to wear on him. 

Drying his hands on a dirty, stained towel slung on a rack near the dishwasher, David glanced at the clock hung on the wall before heading to clock out for the night. He sighed heavily as he threw on his coat and walked out to his car, feet aching from the long day. Practically throwing himself down in the backseat of his car, he covered his face with one arm. He was so exhausted all the time . . . he had no idea how much longer he could keep this up for. David locked his car on instinct, then quickly fell into a restless, dreamless sleep. 

_ The memory was blurred around the edges, the faces and voices indistinct, but the emotions were just as sharp as when they were fresh. The anger and disgust on his parents’ faces; the anxious pounding of his own heart; the fearful look his friend gave him as he hurried out the door, leaving David behind to face his parents’ anger alone. He was never allowed to see that friend again. His parents could barely stand to look at him for weeks afterwards, and then there was the camp . . .  _

He awoke to a much brighter light than he expected, jarring him suddenly out of his slumber. Squinting against the brightness, he looked at the car’s dashboard to check the time. 9:17 am.  _ Shit.  _ He was hours late for work. Sitting up slowly, he winced at his aching, cramped joints. The combination of being overworked and sleeping in the cramped backseat of a shitty sedan. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he groaned. His boss was going to  _ kill  _ him. He stepped out of the backseat of his car, stretching his legs slowly. He could feel the beginnings of what he could tell was going to be a wicked headache coming on. 

_ Fuck it,  _ he thought as he slid into the front seat of the car. There was always going to be  _ somewhere  _ looking to hire, right? 

The car’s engine sputtered to life as David turned the key. The old shitbox sounded like it was ready to give out every time it started up. Turning out of the near-empty parking lot he’d been camped in for the night, he headed towards the boardwalk. Here, the buzz of the crowds was almost invigorating rather than distant and depressing. People sat around the outskirts of the main crowd, smoking and talking quietly between themselves. Sometimes David watched these people, and sometimes they watched him. There was no judgement in  _ their  _ eyes, only a certain understanding. If he went to them, he’d have a place. 

He turned his gaze forward and kept walking. 

The flashing lights and neon signs of the boardwalk were less visible during the day, but eye-catching nonetheless. He wasn’t interested in the rides, or the comic book shops that sprawled out into the walkway, though. He was scanning the store fronts, hoping to catch a glance of-- 

And the large front windows of a video store caught his eye. A sign was pasted on the window, looking old and faded from sun exposure, but exactly what he was looking for.  **HELP WANTED.** David quickly pushed his way through the crowd, heading towards the store. A blast of cold air hit him as he entered. He almost shivered in surprise at the chill after walking through the late morning heat. A large white dog regarded him from where it lay near the store’s checkout counter with eyes that seemed strangely intelligent. As David took his first couple steps into the store, the middle-aged man behind the counter looked up at him. His expression was not unfriendly, but there was a look in his eyes that stopped David where he stood for a moment. There was something slightly off-putting about the man, something David couldn’t even begin to place. Trying to cover up his hesitation with a nervous smile, he hurried up to the counter. 

“What can I do for you?” said the man, leaning one elbow against the counter as he now smiled. His expression was perfectly calm and friendly, almost too much so. David was having second thoughts about his impulsive decision to seek out a new job, but he’d already gotten this far. 

“David Powers,” he responded, holding out his hand for the man to shake. “I saw your help wanted sign.” 

“Perfect!” the man exclaimed, his smile growing even wider. As he took David’s hand to shake it, David could feel the unnatural chill of his hand. He repressed the urge to recoil from the man. Even though he knew his smile had dropped at least a little, there was no change in the man’s expression. 

“Max Lawrence. You can just call me Max. When can you start?”

It was nearing dusk by the time David left the video shop for the day, heading back down the boardwalk towards where he’d parked. The throngs of people on the walkway seemed ever present; it didn’t even look like they’d thinned out as it got darker. The day’s events left David reeling slightly. Max’s odd behaviour had more or less continued throughout the day, as he showed David how to do various tasks around the store. No matter where he was or what he was doing, he felt like he could feel the watchful eyes of either Max or his creepy dog, who he’d learned was named Thorn. Maybe a creepy boss was a good trade out for working hours that absolutely beat the crap out of him, though. Not like he could really go back at his point anyway. He’d completely blown off work and ignored all his former boss’s phone calls. He didn’t plan on returning them at any point. 

Unlocking his car, David lay down in the backseat and laced his fingers behind his head as he stared up at the roof. Maybe Max was just . . . kinda a weird dude. It happened. He just couldn’t stop thinking about the odd look Max had been giving him when he’d first entered the shop, almost like he was sizing him up. And how cold his hands had been . . . 

It wasn’t the first time David had lamented the situation he currently found himself in. It just seemed like every decision he made brought its own set of problems with it. Maybe if he’d just pretended better, he wouldn’t have to be here. Or maybe if the camp had worked. His parents had always wanted a son they could be proud of, an all-american boy that didn’t cause them shame by doing apparently unforgivable things like making out with his male friends when his parents weren’t home. The yelling and the threats were still clear in his mind whenever he thought about his last day at home. He’d just jumped in his car and left, and hadn’t looked back since then. 

Well. Hadn’t looked back  _ much.  _

These were the thoughts on his mind as the streetlamps flickered on around him and the neon lights flickered brighter in the darkness. 

  
  


A week passed, and then another. David gradually got used to Max’s odd behaviour, and he barely registered the feeling of eyes on him as he went about his job at the video store. There were a few faces that he grew to recognize, and even be friendly with. All in all, living on the boardwalk wasn’t so bad as he expected it to be after his first day there. 

It was as he was sorting some new deliveries onto a shelving unit along the wall of the store one day that Max approached him. He placed a hand on David’s shoulder, likely meaning the gesture to be friendly, but it came off as unnerving more than anything else. David could feel the chill of his skin through his shirt. 

“You know, you’re showing some real promise,” Max said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I think we should have dinner at my place to discuss business prospects.” 

It occurred to David to ask what kind of promise he could be showing at a small video store along the boardwalk that probably rotated employees after a year, if that. It also occurred to him to ask what kind of business prospects Max could possibly want to be talking to  _ him  _ about, but he didn’t ask either of these questions. He hesitated for a long moment, the rational part of him telling him that he should  _ not  _ under any circumstance be going to this man’s house. But, the chance to eat something that wasn’t greasy takeout from the boardwalk or cold instant noodles was his deciding factor. He nodded, attempting a smile but falling short by a lot. Max clapped him heartily on the shoulder before walking away. Thorn lingered for a moment, staring at David with eyes that seemed almost mocking. He shooed the dog away, and it turned to leave very slowly, keeping its gaze on him for as long as possible. David turned back to stocking the shelves, a distinct knot of unease forming in the pit of his stomach. 

  
  


Following the directions he’d been given by Max led David to a very unremarkable-looking house. As he parked and exited his car, he could see Thorn running up to the gated entrance, barking loudly. David unlatched and opened the gate, making his way up the front path towards the house, Thorn following at his heels. He felt like he was being escorted . . . like he  _ needed  _ an escort or else he’d run for some reason. Despite the very average appearance of the home, it just gave off an almost sinister aura. It seemed  _ too  _ normal,  _ too  _ unremarkable. Like it was trying on purpose to blend in. He glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the distance to his car. Thorn growled low in his throat. Sighing, David rang the doorbell. 

Max was dressed in a crisp button-up shirt and dress pants. David had a brief moment of feeling underdressed in his slightly tattered jeans and t-shirt, but it wasn’t like he really wanted to be here anyway. Or like he really had anything else to wear. 

“Come in, come in,” Max said, stepping back from the doorway and gesturing for David to enter. After a final moment of hesitation, wondering if it was still too late to turn back, he stepped inside. Max’s grin seemed too wide for his face as he shut the door behind David. 

  
  


The food was good, and David idly wondered if Max had cooked it by himself, but he couldn’t concentrate on it. He felt too on edge, like he was waiting for something to happen. Truth be told, he was. Max was making friendly enough conversation, discussing business at the video shop, but there was a certain tension underneath the amicable exterior. Like he was waiting for a moment to . . . strike. That seemed like the right word. The minutes ticked by, and nothing happened. Instead of putting David at ease, it just made him more unnerved. By the time they’d both cleared their plates, he was a ball of nervous energy. He was ready to practically jump out of his chair and run to his car. Beginning to push his chair back before he was even finished speaking, he thanked Max for the meal. Max quickly interrupted him with a raised hand. David’s heart sank in his chest. The man’s smile definitely had an edge to it now. 

“Surely you’ll stay for dessert?” Without waiting for an answer, Max walked into the next room over, which David could only assume was the kitchen. There were several soft clinking noises, then Max walked back into the dining room, holding an oddly ornate-looking wine bottle and two glasses. David watched as Max placed one glass in front of him and poured the contents of the bottle into it. 

The liquid that oozed from the bottle was thick, and dark. It was much too viscous for wine, and the dark red smears it left on the sides of the wine glass sent a chill down David’s spine. He could only stare in mute disgust as Max poured his own glass, then raised it for a toast. David couldn’t make out what he said over the ringing in his ears, but Max’s smile was weirdly sharp in his field of vision. David’s fingers could barely feel the wine glass as he clinked it gently against Max’s. The fine trembling in his hand caused tremors to go through the liquid in the glass. Almost transfixed, David raised the glass to his lips. It felt oddly . . . warm. 

The liquid tasted nothing like he’d expected, and nothing like he’d hoped. It was vaguely sweet, and vaguely spiced; it wasn’t like anything he’d tasted before. Before he was barely aware of what he was doing, he’d drained the whole glass. A single thick droplet trailed down the outside of the glass, and David’s eyes followed it absentmindedly. His memories got fuzzy after that. He remembered Max saying something to him, but not what he’d said. He remembered stumbling out of the house without saying a word, as far as he could tell, and practically falling into his car. He fell asleep as soon as he was no longer standing. 

The first thing David noticed when he woke up was a sharp, pounding ache throughout his whole head. Groaning, he instinctively moved to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight pouring in through the car’s windows. It seemed sharper than usual, more painful. Was he hungover? That didn’t make sense, he’d only had one glass of whatever Max had given him . . . 

As he became more conscious, he realised he’d fallen asleep sitting up in the driver’s seat of his car. He squinted his eyes open. Shit, and he was still parked in front of Max’s house.  _ And  _ he was definitely late for work. As weird as his boss might’ve been, he didn’t want to lose this job. With his eyes closed, David shifted through the various items he kept in the glove compartment of his car. Road maps . . . spare change . . . finally, his fingers closed on an old and scratched pair of sunglasses. Slipping them on, he finally braved opening his eyes. Definitely a hangover. Whatever Max had given him must’ve been a hell of a drink. 

Sliding the keys into the ignition, David started his car and started driving towards the boardwalk. It was going to be a pain in the ass, trying to work the video store with a massive hangover, but he didn’t want to lose a second job so soon. As he walked the boardwalk towards the video store, the voices of the people around him seemed simultaneously too loud and also muffled. They made his head pound worse, but he couldn’t make out a single word that anyone was saying. Gritting his teeth and keeping his head down, David finally pushed open the door to the video store. Max looked up from behind the counter, seeming a little surprised to see him but smiling that creepy smile all the same. 

“David!” Max called, striding towards him quickly. “Last night must have been rough for you. You can have the day off.” He spoke the last part in hushed tones, patting David on the shoulder. David felt too foggy to answer coherently. He just nodded, not bothering to question it and glad to have an opportunity to sleep off his headache as he stumbled back to his car. 

  
  


It was just past sunset when he awoke again, and something was distinctly wrong this time. 

David jolted awake, headache gone, relieved to see the surrounding darkness. Almost before the relief at the release from his earlier headache could register, he felt a deep, sharp ache in the pit of his stomach. Curling into a ball in the backseat, he gasped in pain and surprise. Max must’ve done this, he thought. Poisoned him or something. The pang passed and David quickly scrambled out of his car, noticing as he did so that the ache in his stomach hadn’t gone away completely, only lessened. Fueled by anger and fear, David marched onto the boardwalk, intending to head directly to the video store. Instead, he halted as soon as he found himself surrounded by people. Dozens of warm, breathing, living bodies, life pulsing hotly just beneath their skin. The smell of everything and everyone at once was overwhelming, and David almost crumpled at the sharp, aching pain that overtook him once again. He wanted to lash out at the people nearest to him, rip them open, drink . . . ? 

David shook his head, breathing heavily. This wasn’t something that happened in real life. Swallowing hard, he started running towards the video shop, pushing people aside as he went. Yells of protest and even a couple blows followed him as he ran, but he didn’t stop until he’d burst through the doors of the video shop. He half-ran, half-stumbled over to a very smug-looking Max and gripped him by the shirt collar. 

“What the hell did you do to me?” David practically growled at him. The few customers that were in the store quickly filed out, side-eyeing the scene that was unfolding in front of them. 

“I made you like me,” Max said, seemingly completely unbothered by David’s outburst, his almost ever-present smile still on his face. “I made you a monster.” 

Even when David gave him a hearty blow across the face, his smile barely wavered. David didn’t want to believe him.  _ Couldn’t  _ believe him. This was some horror movie shit; there was no way this was happening to him. Even after Max showed him the truth, he was in denial. He ran from the video shop, sprinting blindly into the night, not even heading towards his car or any identifiable destination. He just needed to get away.

  
  


David quickly found he couldn’t resist the urge to kill for very long. The pain grew from an ache into a sharp, ever-present pain, and the desire grew stronger with it. Max found him, somehow, and he was there, at the edge of David’s awareness with his too-sharp grin and luminescent eyes. David resisted for as long as he could, struggling with himself, even as Max egged him on in the background, until the cries calling for violence and the pain grew too much and he gave in. Even there, as he kneeled on the ground with blood on his hands and an all too familiar taste in his mouth, he struggled with himself. And he lost. 

Or he won. It was hard to say which. 

The first time David killed, he hesitated. 

Every time after came without a second thought. 

**Author's Note:**

> honestly idk how I feel about this one but I still wanted to post it so here y'all go 
> 
> this is my second fic in the last couple months that follows the specific plot of 'person being coerced/manipulated into murder' am I like, okay


End file.
